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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24110005">Acknowledge the past as lessons exquisitely crafted</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyScribbles/pseuds/SkyScribbles'>SkyScribbles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A thousand fingerprints on the surfaces of who I am [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A homemade spell is something that can be so personal, Dialogue Heavy, EGTW spoilers, Just a gentle conversation, M/M, Mutual Admiration, Mutual Support, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Shadowgast week, Wizard Study Sessions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:00:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,465</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24110005</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyScribbles/pseuds/SkyScribbles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>‘You recall the Resonant Echo spell that you learned? Some time ago, now?’</p><p>Caleb sits up a little straighter. ‘Of course. That is <em>your</em> spell?’</p><p>Essek nods, feeling – he isn’t sure. Peculiar. Vulnerable. Naked, even, like he’s back in the hold of that ship with his soul cracked open, like he’s torn off a layer of skin and handed it to Caleb along with this information.</p><p>(In which Caleb and Essek discuss two unique spells, shared between them.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A thousand fingerprints on the surfaces of who I am [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1874992</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>486</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Shadowgast Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Acknowledge the past as lessons exquisitely crafted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the 'books' prompt for Day 2 of Shadowgast Week! It's not really about books but... wizard study sessions count, right?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The study is quiet. The evening is warm. And Essek should not be staring at Caleb’s hands, but the candlelight is on them, and they are <em>freckled,</em> and Essek has always been a selfish man.</p><p>He is familiar with the sensation of being mesmerised. Until now, though, that word has always been associated with magic. It has meant the thrum of gravity beneath his palms; staring into the blacker-than-blackness of a Dark Star; the vertigo of reaching into a Beacon and seeing the infinite could-have-been-Esseks stretching away into darkness. Danger is mesmerising, and power is mesmerising - which is, Essek suspects, part of the reason he has ended up guilty of high treason.</p><p>Caleb's hands are dangerous, and they are powerful. But that isn't it, Essek thinks, watching Caleb tap his quill gently, methodically, against the side of the inkwell. That isn't why he's staring. He is staring because Caleb's hands move with such intense precision. Because Caleb has spilled a little of the spellwriting ink on his fingers, and it’s shimmering every time it catches the light. Because this is so <em>unknown</em> to him, to be mesmerised by something so small, and the unknown has always fascinated him, and because these are the same hands that once cradled Essek’s face –</p><p>‘You are getting on all right with the spell?’ </p><p>Caleb is looking up at him. Essek hurriedly pulls his eyes away. ‘Fine. Yes. Fine.’</p><p>He turns his spellbook a little, so that Caleb can see the Vault of Amber spell half-transcribed on a fresh page. Caleb nods, and continues his own steady progress through writing up Temporal Shunt. It’s funny - the agreement they made an hour ago, this exchange of spells, didn’t feel like the old transaction of a favour of a favour. More like mutual gifting.</p><p>Essek prefers this new state of affairs. Considerably.</p><p>‘You know,’ he says, taking up his quill again and marking out a few lines of the spell glyph, ‘I’m grateful every day that you chose to show me that cat’s paw.’</p><p>Caleb’s head tilts, and his mouth twitches up into a smile. ‘You mean, when I was trying to impress you into teaching me?’</p><p>‘And you conjured a <em>cat’s paw.’  </em>Essek grins. ‘That was your <em>something impressive – </em>a giant cat’s paw<em>.</em>’</p><p>‘So? I like cats.’</p><p>‘Oh, that wasn’t mockery. I meant only – ’</p><p>Essek hesitates, quill still pressed to paper, because what he means would be difficult to put into words in his own language, let alone in Common. <em>Praise </em>is not quite right, neither is <em>celebration. </em>Those words don’t capture what it feels like to know that his life might have had seven empty spaces in it if Caleb hadn’t cast that quirky little spell.</p><p>He finishes the line he’s drawing. Dips the quill into the ink, and watches the ripples through the shining liquid. ‘I’m sure you’ve, ah, thought a great deal about why that agreement was made. My tutoring you in dunamancy. I most certainly have.’</p><p>‘You wanted to keep us close.’ Caleb’s voice has taken on the same guarded tone he uses whenever they discuss the days when Essek was lying to them. ‘Make me indebted to you. So you could… pull my strings if you needed to. Give me a tug away from the truth.’</p><p>Meeting Caleb’s eyes is suddenly unthinkable. ‘Partly, yes. I’m not going to pretend that much of it didn’t come from selfishness. But it was also… it was a lot to do with the spell you chose. You were invited to show off with everything you had, and you chose <em>that </em>one. It’s functionally identical to Bigby’s Hand, correct?’</p><p>Caleb nods.</p><p>‘I’ve seen what you’re capable of, Caleb. You could have filled the street with flame - and instead, you demonstrated that you had taken the time and coin to turn a simple spell into something unique. There was no material advantage, nothing to be gained from adding fur and claws, except… fun. You created for the joy of creating.’</p><p>Is it selfish of him to be so delighted with himself every time he makes Caleb smile? Is it presumptuous, to savour moments like this, when the smile creeps onto Caleb’s face and stays? Most likely, yes - and yet Essek finds it hard to care. Caleb smiles so rarely. </p><p>‘A hundred and twenty years of life,’ Essek says, ‘and I had never met anyone who <em>played </em>with magic. That spell was… it was <em>you, </em>Caleb. It told me more about you than any word you spoke in the Bright Queen’s court.’</p><p>Caleb's smile fades, and panic flares in Essek’s gut. He’s misstepped, misspoken, he’s fumbled over some invisible line and shattered the comfortable ease between them. But then Caleb looks back at him, and his eyes are a little sad, a little warm, in a way that makes Essek's stomach twist uncomfortably. This is the problem with talking to Caleb: this man <em>notices </em>so much, and barely says a word about what he’s noticed. Which leaves Essek feeing horribly <em>seen</em> – and what’s worse, feeling like Caleb has understood something about Essek that Essek doesn’t understand himself.</p><p>‘What?’ he says, and silently scolds himself. He sounds like a child caught misbehaving.</p><p>The side of Caleb’s mouth tugs upwards. ‘You wanted a peer,’ he says. ‘You always wanted one.’</p><p>Oh. So it was sympathy, then, a sad kind of sympathy, that made Caleb’s smile fade. It occurs to Essek that he should feel patronised. He does not.</p><p>Instead, he thinks of the Assembly. Remembers saying <em>I believe there is respect on an intellectual level – </em>and flinches inwardly, because he was so humiliatingly, wilfully naïve. ‘I suppose I did.’</p><p>‘Well.' Caleb waves a hand, indicating the two of them and the books laid out between them. ‘We are here now.’</p><p>Essek’s breathing pools into a hard knot in his throat. ‘So we are.’</p><p>A pause; then Caleb returns to his spell, his lips moving silently as he records the incantation words. And if Essek could barely justify watching Caleb's hands, he most certainly can't justify watching Caleb's lips, so he shakes the spare ink from his quill and gets back to work.</p><p>It’s a minute later that Caleb says, ‘You must have created some spells of your own, though. Aside from, you know, the floating. A century of being one of the smartest people in Rosohna, and a barely-tapped field of magic open before you - I'm sure you've come up with something much more exciting than a cat's paw.’</p><p>If anyone but Caleb had asked that, Essek would have assumed they were trying to wheedle him into letting the slip the secrets of his success. But it’s Caleb, which means the question is just what it seems to be: a question. Caleb is curious, like always. About magic. About Essek. Which is a problem, because it means that Essek – Essek, who is trying so very hard to turn honesty into a habit – needs to answer him.</p><p>He licks his lips. ‘Well, you’re not wrong. I did, ah … you recall the Resonant Echo spell that you learned? Some time ago, now?’</p><p>Caleb sits up a little straighter. ‘Of course. That is <em>your </em>spell?’</p><p>Essek nods, feeling – he isn’t sure. Peculiar. Vulnerable. <em>Naked, </em>even, like he’s back in the hold of that ship with his soul cracked open, like he’s torn off a layer of skin and handed it to Caleb along with this information. Why, he can’t say; all he knows is that he wasn’t ready for Caleb to know this, not yet.</p><p>Paper rustles as Caleb flips back through his spellbook, stopping at the place where the familiar sigil for Resonant Echo fills the page. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that it was yours?’</p><p>‘I suppose I just...’ Light, Caleb has a habit of trapping him: with enchanted manacles, with kindness, with questions he wasn’t ready for. ‘I didn't think it was important.’</p><p>‘Why would it not be important? It is part of you. You said it yourself, about my cat’s paw. A unique spell - that is something that comes from your mind, from ideas that were born inside <em>you, </em>and no one else. That is <em>important.</em>’</p><p>Startled by Caleb’s vehemence, Essek moves his lips uselessly a few times, then presses them tight together. How can he explain this, explain why a man who floats everywhere to win people’s respect would stay silent about his proudest invention? Why does he have to explain? Why is Caleb so very determined to <em>see </em>him?</p><p>‘You know,’ Caleb says, after a moment, and there’s a trace of amusement in his voice, ‘if you’d wanted to impress me, it would have worked.’</p><p>‘But I didn’t. Shocking, I know, seeing as I’ve made everything about myself for a hundred years, but – I wasn’t hoping to impress you, Caleb.’</p><p>The words come out before he has time to consider them. And he’s committed now, so he adds, ‘After what happened earlier that day, with the Scourger, I… you were hurt, and I thought perhaps, in the future, that spell might protect you. Or at the very least, given your interest in fate and time, it might help you towards whatever you were pursuing. And I suppose I didn’t want you to know that it was mine, because it felt… I don’t know. Foolish, perhaps? Sentimental. Giving you something so personal to protect you.’</p><p>He already wishes he’d lied. He wishes Caleb were not so adept at forcing the truth from him. <em>Why not spill everything while you’re at it, Thelyss? Why not tell him that you stare at his hands while he’s not looking?</em></p><p>Caleb sets his quill down and turns his chair around to face Essek. ‘That isn't foolish. You gave me a piece of yourself. A piece of your mind, your <em>brilliant </em>mind. How many times did you watch the Echo Knights, and wonder what might be possible if you could just do what they do? And because you had a question and you created the answer, I had your magic to protect us when we were neck-deep in a swamp trying to help Veth with her problem. A piece of you has been fighting alongside the Mighty Nein from the other side of a continent, all this time. That is not foolish.’</p><p>Essek stares. He’s never able to predict these moments when this fierce side of Caleb comes to life. Moments when he learns the meaning of <em>mesmerised </em>all over again.</p><p>He manages to stir himself into speaking. ‘I’m – glad it was useful to you all. I didn’t mean to suggest that I thought it was foolish to – want to keep you safe. Caring about your safety is the best decision I ever made.’ Not, of course, that he has made many good decisions to compare it with. ‘It’s just – if you’d known it was my creation, you would have been… grateful. And I know you <em>were </em>grateful for what I taught you, but a unique spell is <em>different,</em> and what right did I have to let you think I was being generous, after - after all that had been done? I don’t know that I have a right to let you think well of me now, and I most certainly didn’t then.’</p><p>He tries to laugh. Keep his tone light, make it all seem gently self-mocking, so that Caleb can't see how much it aches, admitting this.</p><p>A second passes. Silent. Then Caleb reaches forward, and –</p><p>And then his hands are holding Essek’s, Caleb’s hands are holding Essek’s and his skin is on Essek’s skin and Essek should pull away because he does not know how to <em>live </em>with touch as kind as this, he isn’t <em>ready </em>to be touched like this, and yet he does not want Caleb to let go -</p><p>‘I do think well of you, Essek,’ Caleb says.</p><p>His voice is very quiet. Strained, even. Essek snorts and looks away.</p><p>‘I <em>do</em>.’ Caleb's fingers trace the lines of Essek’s palms. ‘These hands – they have stolen Beacons and lit the sparks of a war. But I don’t believe that’s what they were made for. Not when I have seen them turned towards what they do best. They were made for creation. And they were made for other living hands to hold.’</p><p>Essek closes his eyes. Breathes in, out. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling, but he’s feeling entirely too much of it.</p><p>‘I’ve seen you at your worst, yes. But I’m very eager to see who you become at your best. And I’ve seen the sparks of that man, getting stronger by the day, and… I think well of the man I see in them.’</p><p>Essek tries to chuckle. ‘Well. I hope not to disappoint.’ And then, because he has not forgotten what Caleb said on the ship about looking in a mirror, ‘And I could say the same for you. I do say it, in fact.’</p><p>Caleb freezes.</p><p>And Essek thinks he understands how Caleb feels, in those moments where he gets eloquent and fierce. Because he feels that same fierceness right now, faced with the idea that Caleb could see any goodness in him and not grant himself the same courtesy. ‘I mean that, Caleb. Quite aside from you being a genius of a wizard, you are... you are <em>good</em>, Caleb. Or you do good. If there's a difference.’ He tightens his grip on Caleb's hands. ‘There aren't many who could be as kind to a traitor as you have been to me. Give to yourself some of what you’ve given me. And if you won’t, then - then let me give it instead, if I can. We can call it a favour for a favour, if it makes it easier.’</p><p>Caleb’s lips twitch. He doesn’t say anything. But he gives Essek’s hands the tiniest squeeze, then lets them go.</p><p>The study is quiet again. Essek turns back to his book and picks up his quill with hands that are impressively steady, considering that they still remember the feeling of Caleb's touch. ‘Well. Now we have thoroughly complimented each other’s innovative minds and potential for goodness, shall we get back to it? Once we are finished here, I do have a few other unique creations, if you wish to learn.’</p><p>The tension vanishes from Caleb’s body, and it’s with a sudden energy that he spins around in his chair to collect his quill. ‘<em>Always.’</em></p><p>Essek laughs. ‘Some genius I am, to be asking such obvious questions.’</p><p>Caleb’s eyes crease with amusement. And Essek should not be drinking that in, he should not be revelling in the fact that once again, he made Caleb happy, he should not be feeling drunk on memory of the soft press of Caleb’s hands around his –</p><p>And then Caleb smiles at him again, and he is well and truly lost.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know Resonant Echo only became unique to Essek because Matt didn't have room for it in the EGTW... but now that it's canonically Essek's, I get to read too deeply into this, and no one can stop me.</p><p>Title from 'Eric's Song' by Vienna Teng (which could definitely be renamed 'Essek's Song' and you wouldn't have to change a single lyric.)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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